Pretty Girls Dancing(108)
His lips curved. “Yeah?”
Janie nodded. “She was mad because Mom gave me the last slice of banana cream pie. So when we were swinging that day, she applied a little extra force.”
“I have an older brother. I can relate.”
Her fingers traced over the words. Fly high, Janie. “But she was sorry. Kelsey could be careless, but she didn’t have a mean bone in her body. I never would have gone near the swing set again if she hadn’t spent weeks coaxing me.”
Silence stretched between them for long moments. “Your dad told me once you planned to go to Stanford.”
Her earlier amusement fled. College decisions were suspended indefinitely. How could she think about moving across the country with her family shattered? “I’ve been accepted. But . . . probably not. I might take a year off. It depends on how Mom is doing.”
“We can put our lives on hold for only so long. Who knows? Maybe you could convince your mom to visit you regularly in California.”
She was struck by the suggestion. Why hadn’t she thought of that? “Maybe.”
He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got another appointment, so I’ll let you rejoin your friends. Thanks again for meeting me.”
She picked up the note he’d given her. It was still just words scribbled on paper. But it represented far more. Her final link to her sister. “Thank you for this.”
Claire Willard
November 21
10:02 a.m.
There was a knock on the bedroom door. “Mrs. Willard. You have a visitor.”
Marta’s voice had Claire lifting her head, confused. She was still sitting on the side of the bed, where she’d sat talking with Janie earlier. It was Saturday. Janie had mentioned that when she’d told Claire she was meeting Alyvia at the coffee shop. Why was Marta here on a Saturday?
The woman’s voice lowered on the other side of the door. “I’ll send her away.”
“No.” Claire was surprised at the answer that burst from her lips. Maybe it was Barbara. It probably was. And with Janie out of the house, she wouldn’t mind having her friend here for a bit for company. She’d stay with Claire for an hour at a time, holding her hand, saying nothing, her presence speaking volumes. The woman seemed to realize that sometimes there were no words. “Send her up.”
There was a pause before she heard the woman move away. Claire stood, swayed as a wave of dizziness hit her before making her way to her dresser. The mirror faithfully reflected what others would see. A too-thin woman still in her robe and nightgown. Hair brushed, thanks to Janie’s reminders this morning. Even light makeup applied. But few would guess that the reflection represented only an empty husk. Claire felt completely hollowed out. There was nothing of substance left inside.
She heard the knob turn. Froze when she saw the woman framed in the doorway. It wasn’t Barbara at all. It was Shannon DeVries. Claire sagged against the dresser, one hand going out to brace herself.
“Maybe I’m the last person you want to see right now.” The woman wore a mask Claire recognized all too well. That of someone who wished she were anywhere else but here. Shannon took a cautious step inside the room. “I know how I’d feel if the situation were reversed. But you helped me. You understood better than anyone else could what I was going through. My sister is leaving tomorrow. I couldn’t have made it through this without her. I have your generosity to thank for that.”
Claire closed her eyes for a moment. If she possessed a fraction of the generosity Shannon credited her with, the words wouldn’t have been so hard to muster. “I’m so happy . . . for your family.”
The woman approached further. “Having Julie with me helped, but when things looked bleakest, I thought of you. How you came through the worst thing a parent could suffer. It gave me hope. And Whitney . . . all she talks about is Kelsey. How her writings helped her hang on.”
Shannon’s last words managed to pierce Claire’s blanket of misery. “Kelsey’s . . . writings?” Her knees threatened to buckle.
The other woman sprang forward, taking her by the elbow. “Why don’t we sit down?”
She walked her to the two easy chairs facing the TV in the corner. Gratefully, Claire sank into one of the seats, her mind still grappling with Shannon’s meaning. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” She wished now that she could claw away the fog that had settled in her brain. “I haven’t been up to speaking with the police or BCI since . . .”
“I understand.” Shannon sat in the other chair, impatiently brushing back a stray strand of hair, her dark gaze fixed on Claire’s. “Whitney found some things Kelsey had written and hidden away in that basement. Several pages, actually. About . . . her experience.” The other woman swallowed hard. Seemed to find it difficult to go on. “But Whit says most of it was talking about how she planned to outwit her captor. How she managed to stay strong until she could get away.”
Claire’s eyes filled on cue. Kelsey. She’d been born with an engaging combination of charm and sass, which had masked an iron will. Shannon’s revelations were accompanied with the customary pain. But as usual, she couldn’t resist clutching at each nugget of information about her daughter. “Thank you for telling me this.”
Shannon gave her a watery smile. “Whitney’s told me over and over how Kelsey’s words gave her strength in a terrifying situation. I’m so grateful to your daughter. She must be very like you. Because you kept me strong, too, with your example of how to withstand the worst life could throw at a parent.” She stood. “I’ll understand if it’s too painful . . . but I’d like to come back some time. If you want me to.”